


Hentai Heroine Dean Winchester

by fastandfilthy (IndridGrey)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Anal Sex, Bestiality, Bottom Dean, Early Season Spoilers, F/M, For the most part, Kinda, Like Pretty Gross Monsters, M/M, Monster of the Week, Multi, Other, Porn With Plot, The Monsters Die
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-04-21 02:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14274561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndridGrey/pseuds/fastandfilthy
Summary: Dean getting fucked by monsters (each chapter is a different monster)Fill forspnkink_meme prompt"Can I please have some Dean being caught and forced by monsters please? Like a 5 + 1 maybe? Monsters from 80s horror movies, like ugly horrid things that pin down pretty Dean and have their way with him. Maybe fill him with venom to make him pliant or willing. Just more monsters fucking Dean please."





	1. Gremlins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags: gangbang, size difference, drugged sex, minor injury

Dean didn’t give a shit that Sam said these things were an actual species with a real name, they were fucking gremlins.  Green, gross leathery skin with random scales and horns, mouths full of fangs, giant ears, killed mostly by sunlight, fire, and silver bullets to the head—goddamn gremlins except they had snouts and were about four feet tall.

He didn’t know where Sam was, just hoped that he was doing better than Dean was and didn’t have a pack of the creepy fuckers on his tail.  He turned slightly and managed to down two more before his magazine was empty, but that still left five.  Shit, shit, shit.  His legs were already burning, that’d been all his ammo, he’d lost his mini Molotov cocktails, and his hairspray flamethrower wouldn’t last long if he ever had enough time to steady his aim.  Where the fuck was S—

The thing about running in pitch dark caves with a puny flashlight is that eventually you trip.  His shout echoed and before he even got a knee under him, the not-so-tiny goblins were on him.  He flailed and tried to dislodge them, but they were heavy and just small enough that they could ride his movements rather than be bucked off.

Swinging his hand behind him in the hopes of catching one of them with the grip of his gun was short-lived due to his wrist being pinned to his back and his gun being wrested from his grip and tossed, the clatter echoing too much for him to have a good sense of how far away it ended up.  One of them caught his other wrist midair and pinned that one too.  Christ, how were they so strong?  They were practically skin and bone.  He rocked side to side and writhed, but they were still distributed over him such that he couldn’t get enough momentum.  The ones pushing his knees into the hard ground were going to meet extra painful demises.  As soon as he could get them off him.

Dean cussed as claws tore at his clothes and left burning lines in his skin.  Fuck, fuck, hadn’t Sam said something about venomous claws?  They were whooping excitedly as he yelled out for his brother.  Sure enough, just a few moments later the strength started draining from his movements.  He could still feel everything—the sting and bite of claws, the cold air against his increasingly exposed skin, the burn in his muscles from running full speed—his body just wasn’t responding to his demands like it was supposed to.  It was only moments before he couldn’t even get his vocal cords to cooperate.  If they dosed him so bad that he went into respiratory depression, he was dead.

He managed a confused grunt as they lifted off him and started pulling on his pants.  Were they mugging him?  What the hell were they going to do with clothes they’d torn up themselves?  Oh, crap, they were going for his underwear.  He managed a weak flop in protest, but it didn’t slow them down a bit.  He was naked from the waist down on a cold cave floor, unable to move, surrounded by murderous gremlins with sharp teeth.  Perfect.  Where the fuck was Sam.

Wait, what the hell?  Something was poking his ass—what the _fuck_ were they doing back there?  Alarm bells started up again when little bony hands spread his cheeks.  What the.  There was no way—  This was real life, not some anime—

A wheeze left him as something small and dry shoved up into his hole and started thrusting.  It didn’t hurt much, but his humiliation skyrocketed.  Bad enough to be brought down by gremlins, but to have those fuckers treating him like a fucking anime girl?  He changed his mind: Sam could take his sweet time, long enough for the venom to wear off and for Dean to flambé these raping douche nozzles himself.  He groaned in disgust when something dripped down his taint after the little very-soon-to-be-dead fucker pulled out.  Creampied by a fucking gremlin, how was this his life.  He snarled and attempted another flop when a second creature replaced the first and started humping away.  Still nothing, but at least they weren’t scratching him anymore, which meant he just had to wait it out.

Fifteen minutes passed and his embarrassment and worry whether Sam was okay became overwhelmed by his mounting fury.  The gremlins were still gathered around his ass, taking turns but no longer holding him down.  Unwise of them, because he could finally move his hands again.  He crept his fingers down into his jacket pockets and clutched the can of hairspray and lighter as he waited with gritted teeth for more of his strength to come back.

Panic shot through him when he heard Sam calling his name.  The echo made it hard to judge, but he couldn’t be far.  No way in fuck was Dean going to let Sam see him like this.  The gremlins had quieted when Sam first called out, and he swore to god that if they ran off scared he would hunt every one of them down, no matter how long it took.

He tensed up, braced himself, and rolled over, displacing the one on him.  His flamethrower caught every one of the others as they stumbled back in surprise.  He spent an extra few seconds on the one he was half sitting on.  He hoped the change in position had broken its dick.  He let it escape before it burned him and watched all five of them run and scream as he tugged what was left of his clothes back on.  They weren’t very smart, weren’t even trying to stop drop and roll or even pat themselves out.  Vindication curled in his chest as he watched them fall one-by-one.

Sam finally found him a couple minutes later, still staring at the flaming corpses.  Dean took the offered hand up and deflected Sam’s questions with comments he wouldn’t remember later.

Dried gremlin jizz was a bitch to scrub off.  He figured that knowledge wasn’t something that needed adding to Dad’s journal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got another three written already I can't believe it lol
> 
> Feedback is appreciated <3 (cross-posted to [tumblr](https://samdeanddlyumptious.tumblr.com/post/172789255550/hhdwgremlins))
> 
> Also if y'all have any ideas on how to get Dean disarmed and half naked, I'd be happy to hear them


	2. Slime Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slimy tentacles in holes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday the 13th :D
> 
> Additional tags: overstimulation, sounding, asphyxiation, triple penetration, restrained, forced orgasm

The next time it happened, it was literal tentacles.

Something had been leaving half-digested, desiccated animals littered along a river the past few weeks, and Sam and he had finally figured out they had their first ever slime monster to deal with.  They were pretty sure it was taking shelter in one of the abandoned beaver lodges, so they were out at midnight with goggles, waterproof flashlights, machetes, and baggies of salt in the pockets of their swimming trunks.  They decided to split up since they weren’t sure either of them could fit in a lodge at all, let alone both of them.  If they couldn’t figure it out, they’d team back up and put their machetes to use.

Neither of them had been up close and personal with beaver shelters before, and the internet hadn’t been very helpful about how the things worked, so it took Dean several minutes just to find the freakin’ entrance of the one he’d called dibs on.  He breached the surface and caught Sam about 50 yards away with his weak beam.

“Hey!”

Sam turned to him and waved.

“I think I can fit!”

“Good!” Sam yelled back.  “Shout if you see anything!”

He fit, barely.  It was such a tight squeeze that he could barely manage a bastard cousin to an army crawl, and he got scratched up as all hell dragging himself up the chute.  It was a good thing Dean wasn’t claustrophobic, or he’d have had a meltdown a third of the way up, which wouldn’t have gone over well since it was flooded with water until about half up.

He had just gotten one hand on the platform of the beaver lodge when his trunks got snagged on something.  He could fit a flattened hand down between himself and his trunks, but there was no way he could maneuver to unhook himself.  He chanted a prayer of nads protection as he shimmied up with a hand tucked between his legs to shield his junk from getting scraped up.

The inside of the lodge was big enough for him to fit, thank fuck.  He sprawled on his back, twigs digging into his skin, to catch his breath before his trunks rescue mission.  He swept his light over the floor and sides of the lodge—he was here to find a monster, after all—and didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.  Not that he really knew what an ordinary beaver lodge looked like.  It was a bunch of sticks and mud.  Definitely nothing that looked like well-chewed pink bubblegum.

Something caught his eye as he moved to prop up onto his side.  He aimed his flashlight back at the ceiling just in time to see the translucent tan tentacle darting forward to wrap around his throat like a fucking turtleneck and squeeze too tight for him to shout.  He pulled at it, but it was so slimy and malleable that he couldn’t get a grip or leverage to slip under and create space.  He sliced through the tentacle with his machete, but the thing just gelled back together so quick that it was like the blade hadn’t even been there.  Salt.  He really needed the salt in his trunks to dry this thing out.  Oh, god, he hoped the baggies hadn’t been torn open by the climb in.  No, he needed to focus on getting his trunks first.  Panic later as appropriate.

Dean dropped the useless machete but kept his flashlight aimed at the amorphous slime on the ceiling and wiggled closer to the entrance.  The goop did not like him trying to get his legs under him, and it grabbed his ankles and yanked them up a couple feet.  He tried to get them even higher to get leverage against the ceiling, but it wouldn’t give him enough slack.  What the fuck was this thing made out of that it could be like goo or solid as fucking steel whenever it pleased?

Slime slid down his legs, tingling over the scratches, and he squirmed.  Having his legs up like he was in traction was going to be a problem.  He was going to have to reach down into the entrance to get to his trunks, which meant he needed to be able to lean into it a little.  Maybe he could go in backwards, hand first?  Did he have the core strength to make it back up without using his legs?

His thoughts short circuited when slime reached his nethers.  Oh hell no.  He squirmed harder and the goo around his neck grew a thick tentacle that slid up his chin and nudged at his lips.  He bit his lips, turned his face away, and the tentacle split in two and shot into his nostrils.  He thrashed and clawed without any result besides his hand getting covered in slime.  Trying to blow his nose didn’t make the slightest difference, either.  When his lungs started burning, he clasped his hand over his mouth and tried to gasp.  Slime from his fingers shot into his mouth and the tentacles melted out of his nose and oozed between his cheeks and hands to join it.  He tried to bite to no effect, tried to yell as the tentacle thickened, but choked when it started secreting something that tasted disgusting and sharp—oh fuck that better not be digestive enzymes.

The goo that had pooled at his groin congealed into two more tentacles, which he tried to bat away.  His vision blurred and his movements slowed as whatever it was feeding him started taking effect.  One of the tentacles wiggled between his ass cheeks, another twined up his cock, and his grunt of protest didn’t make it past the one in his mouth.  He flinched hard when the tentacles slid into his dick and ass, and the flashlight fell from his nerveless fingers when they both simultaneously reached deeper and swelled.

He’d never had anything in his dick before, and it felt like the tentacle was as thick as a finger; his skin felt too tight and it burned as the tentacle wiggled deeper, past the base of his dick.  His ass had seen a little action, but nothing like the thick, undulating thing spreading him far wider than he’d ever been before.  The slime was probably the only reason he wasn’t tearing.

The tentacle in his ass did something weird and his legs twitched when a hard nub slid over his prostate.  A groan vibrated deep in his chest when another slid past at the same time the tentacle in his dick reached something that had him seeing stars.  The tentacle that was practically fisting him had grown large, hard bumps that it rubbed hard against his prostate with every surge into him.  The one in his dick squirmed at the bright spot deep in him.

He had no sense of time as the tentacles worked him over; he couldn’t focus past the overwhelming sensations, could barely keep his eyes open with how his body was singing.  Then the tentacles swelled again, just a little, and the added pressure sent Dean right over the edge into a debilitatingly hard orgasm.  He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t scream, skewered and stuffed full of slime that didn’t let up a bit as he shuddered and clenched around it.  He barely glimpsed a shadow traveling up the tentacle in his dick towards the blob on the ceiling, and then he passed out.

When he came to, nothing had changed except everything was just as painful as it was pleasurable.  That was good, though.  The pain helped clear his head.  Salt.  He was supposed to be getting salt.  The slime monster just moved with him this time, not giving up an inch as it fucked him.  Dean had to stop with a gasp as soon as he was on his side, because the tentacles somehow slid even further.  The one in his dick moved even deeper and hit something else far too sensitive.  The tip of it squirmed there and Dean almost blacked out again when it firmed up into ridges at the first special spot and rocked back and forth in time with the movement in his ass.  The slime in his mouth flinched but didn’t retreat when the tears sliding down his face pooled at the crease of his lips.  It was too much, too fucking much, he couldn’t—

He had to.  If he didn’t, Sam might find him on shore, wrung out and partially dissolved.

Dean gathered his strength again and reached down into the entrance.  His flashlight was aimed square at the lodge siding but was bright enough that he could just make out the difference between his trunks and the structure.  The couple minutes it took him to reach them and tug them free were just long enough for another orgasm to be forced out of him and for all the pleasure to oversaturate into agony.  His hands were shaking hard when he finally got his swimsuit up onto the platform.  His chest heaved with a relieved sob when he saw that the baggies were intact, and he was so grateful no tentacles had grabbed his arms.

The slime monster’s reaction to having salt flung at it was immediate and violent.  Dean barely held back a scream when all the tentacles yanked out of him to retreat to the roiling mass.  He scooted back on his scratched and sore ass when it fell from the ceiling.  It cringed once more when he threw more salt on it, then stilled.  His eyes didn’t leave it as he caught his breath and put his trunks back on.  It cracked and split this time when he chopped at it.

Leaving the beaver lodge was a million times worse than the climb in had been—he felt a little faint every time his ass or dick so much as touched the walls of the mud-and-stick chute, and his skin felt tender and tight.  As soon as he was free again, he expelled and wiped off every bit of the slime he could while in a river wearing trunks and not knowing where his brother was.

When he finally caught up with Sam, he got chastised for not having yelled for back up.  Over the next few days, he drank so much water that Sam felt the need to inform him that it was actually possible to die from overhydration.  Dean just glared and flipped him off.

It burned to pee for days.  Dean never wanted to see a beaver, anything built by a beaver, or _The Blob_ ever again in his life.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know: through deep urethral stimulation, someone with a prostate can touch it directly with the right sounding tools, as well as the bladder. Please do not try at home without research, practice, patience, lube, and appropriate sterilized equipment
> 
> Feedback is appreciated <3 <3
> 
> cross-posted to [tumblr](https://samdeanddlyumptious.tumblr.com/post/172905537125/hhdwslimemonster)


	3. Spider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very mixed up spider does its best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional tags: minor injury/slight bleeding, object insertion

Dean woke slowly to an odd bouncing sensation. He went to rub his eyes, but his hand wouldn’t move. His head could, though. He looked up, squinting, and saw that his wrists were wrapped up in what looked like a shit-load of white string. There was no give from around his wrists when he tugged, but there was give under them, like he was in handcuffs on a waterbed. Oh, shit, a web. They’d been hunting the less-than-humanoid cousin of arachnes. Something had gotten the drop on him.

Lifting his head pulled on his hair like a bitch, and dread settled in his gut when he saw he was naked like the other victims. He was web-free except for his wrists; even his legs were just sticking to the web like his hair was. As far as Sam and he could tell, victims were transformed while encased in web, so he should be relatively safe for now.

The bouncing started up again and his eyes landed on a creature that looked like something out of a low-budget horror TV show. It was the size of a medium dog, its six eyes glittered in the weak light, and the blue glow of the bands on its legs was bright enough to give him glimpses of its hairy jaws as it stalked towards him.

He tried to pull his legs free, but got nowhere. The bristly hair covering the creature’s legs tickled his sides as the spider straddled his waist. He turned his face away, eyed the glinting fangs just inches above his chest. Those fangs held poison that could literally liquify his insides, he really didn’t like them so close. In general, he wasn’t real fond of having a giant, twitchy spider on top of him. But until it made a move to splooge silk all over him, it was best he stayed as still as possible.

Easier planned than done when something glanced off his balls. He tried to look down, but all he saw was the tail-abdomen-whatever it was between his legs. Something poked hard at his taint and slid down until it caught on his hole.

Oh fuck no. “Not again.”

The jaws twitched excitedly as the monster made a chittering noise in response, and Dean held his breath. Fangs. Inches from his heart. That peril was the only thing that kept him from flinching when something fucking weird wedged its way into him—wait, two things, swiveling in opposite directions. The things weren’t very long, only a few inches deep in his ass, but they were hard and not exactly smooth. He hissed, gritted his teeth, and stared at the fangs tucked close to the creature’s body to remind himself why he was staying stock fucking still even as the discomfort in his ass built into sharp burning.

Dean barely had a moment of relief when the spider pulled out, because it immediately curled in on itself over him and rhythmically moved some of its legs too fast for Dean to see much past the blur of blue. He caught a quick glimpse of something round and pale held in front of its mouth as it turned, fuzzy legs stabbing around him. He sucked in a startled breath when a couple appendages poked around his ass. Those fangs were right by his dick; if he’d been still before, he was doing his best impression of a fuckin’ marble statue now.

What felt like little claws tugged just outside his rim. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to regulate his breathing. The claws weren’t digging into him much, but the whole area was tender as hell from the scratchy stretching. He twitched involuntarily when something pillowy touched against his hole. The monster chittered again, and whatever it was pushed harder against his entrance. The pull of the claws stung, and the mysterious object was soft, but big and rounded. There were tears in Dean’s eyes and tiny rivulets of blood along the curve of his ass from the claws by the time the object breached him. Whatever it was, it was wide but not very long. It only took a few pushes before Dean’s ass was spasming around the entire spongy mass of it.

The spider chittered as it turned around again, and Dean’s breath left him when it climbed higher until the blue-illuminated fangs were right over his face. There was tugging near his wrists and then they were free. The creature backed off to a couple yards away. Dean’s eyes didn’t leave it as he sat slowly and pulled his legs up, silk tugging at his skin like band-aid adhesive. He ignored how it felt like he had a Nerf ball in his ass as he twisted up onto his knees.

Dean froze when the spider took off. He watched it crawl several yards, drop onto the ground, and wave two of its legs haltingly, making the blue stripes look like a flashing neon sign. He didn’t really want to go towards it, but it was on the ground and he didn’t see any other options. The spider danced the entire time it took Dean to crawl down the sticky web, and it reached for him when he finally reached the last ring of silk. It seemed to catch the hint after a few frozen seconds and backed away. He felt like a toddler dangling off the web on his way down.

Landing on his feet jarred whatever was in his ass to rub dry against his insides, and he hissed and glared at the monster as he searched for his clothes. When he found them, his machete was only a couple feet away. Despite having six eyes and Dean being lit up by its bioluminescence, the spider didn’t flinch away when Dean raised his weapon. He felt a bit bad for it when it squealed and collapsed.

That sympathy disappeared over the course of the half hour it took him in the motel bathroom to carefully unlodge the ball of silk it’d stuck in him. Sam stared at him like he was losing it when Dean salt-and-burned one of the little trashcans in the parking lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter because did you know that spiders reproduce by the males spinning a little web-thingy full of sperm and very carefully inserting it into a slot under the female, and then she keeps it in for later use? And this poor little guy even did his mating dance at the wrong time jeez
> 
> Feedback is appreciated!! <3 (cross-posted to [tumblr](https://samdeanddlyumptious.tumblr.com/post/173087574175/hhdwspider))


	4. Mutants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> starting to get gross, y'all  
> additional tags: infections disease, disfigured, double penetration

Once was an accident.  Twice was a coincidence.  Three times was a fucked-up mother of a pattern.  Dean didn’t know what he’d say if Sam ever found out that Dean had started wearing a butt plug to hunts involving creatures.  He was really hoping anything else that decided to try and go for it would give up when they couldn’t push past the base of the plug.  God, he hoped they couldn’t push past.  The plan was meant to be preventative, which was why it was so frustrating that the next time it happened, it was something with opposable thumbs.

Near as they could figure, the mutation-or-whatever was brought on by a bloodborne pathogen, like vampirism but causing tissue disconnection rather than a second teething phase.  So when the mutant kneeling on Dean’s shoulders got his mouth open and stuck its dick in, Dean didn’t bite or scratch, just went limp, opened his mouth as wide as it would go, and tried not to gag at the smell.  The pressure of his shoulder joints being ground into the cellar floor was almost a welcome agony with how it distracted him from the baggy-skinned dick pumping into his mouth and the skin from who-knew-where rubbing against his nose with its thrusts.  The thing’s ball sac wasn’t hitting his chin so much as it was draped past his Adam’s apple.  He glared up at the hideous fuck above him as he tried to come up with a plan.

Dean had seen plenty of elderly people with saggy skin, and he’d seen occasional sensationalist pictures of people with skin conditions or severe burns.  This wasn’t that.  This was severely atrophied muscle and over a dozen huge flaps of thin, rubbery skin so far removed from where it was supposed to be that there were patches of sickly purple from lack of blood flow.  He didn’t even know how the things could see with such droopy foreheads, like English sheepdogs.  He could only imagine that they had to gather up their chin and lips in order to expose their teeth to bite the people they’d been attacking.

Dean gagged when foreskin fell to the back of his throat, and the once-human cackled and picked up its rhythm as Dean used his tongue to try to get the skin flap away from his uvula.  He was going to puke if it didn’t stop soon.  It pulled back slightly when he tapped, panicked, on its skin-and-bone leg, but he barely had time to curl his tongue protectively before it stabbed back in. He was grateful it wasn’t very well endowed, at least.  He really would rather not choke on his own tongue while being face-fucked by a wax museum arson reject.

He was focused on whatever was crunching in his shoulders when hands started working his buckle.  He could only writhe so much before he was risking injuring the bastard already on him, so the other one got his pants and boxer briefs to his ankles with little resistance.

The other creature settled between his legs and he shouted in muffled warning when bony fingers found the base of the plug.  He could feel a fingernail snap off as the monster pulled the toy out, and his breathing got even tighter.  If its nailbed was bleeding even just a little from that, and it stuck that finger in him, he would be infected, his skin and brain would start sloughing apart, god no, they didn’t know a cure—

It said a lot about Dean’s life that he was relieved when it shoved its dick in his ass without prep.  He groaned around his mouthful of monster dick because even with the lube that the plug had kept in, it was uncomfortable as fuck to have something shoved into him.   Flaps of skin hung against his ass cheeks when it was in to the hilt.  He got barely a moment to adjust before it started thrusting to match the other creature.  He felt like he was being plunged.

Breathing.  Grinding shoulder.  The gas mask the first one had ripped off him that was just a foot away from his face.  The container of knock-out gas in his jacket pocket.  Focus.

His brainstorming was cut short when the one sitting on him groaned and his mouth flooded with stale, watery cum.  The second the disgusting, melty cock was out of his mouth, he turned his head and spat.  As soon as it moved off him, he grabbed the gas mask and put it on.

The thing about the mutants was they were like zombies: supernaturally strong, but slow.  He released the gas before they even caught on that he was moving.  The one still fucking him had barely slowed before it collapsed bodily onto him, pushing what little breath he had back out.  He felt a little satisfaction watching the other one fall face-first into the packed dirt.

That still left the problem of extricating himself from under 200 pounds of stretched out flesh without creating any tears.  He didn’t know where Sam was—they’d split up to search the house—but it’d been ten minutes already, so he would be coming soon unless mutants got the drop on him too.  Those fuckers better not have.

Dean struggled to get his pants and underwear all the way off to give him more range, then hugged the stinking, flappy motherfucker to him as he rolled them over.  He got his knees under him and bore down as he raised up.  It wasn’t enough, and grabbing the dick to hold it still and pull the skin down felt a little like trying to wrangle a water tube toy.  Dean didn’t even want to imagine what it’d have been like to try to shimmy the dick out without lube.

No, not a water snake thing.  Silly putty.  Getting all the skin out was like pulling silly putty.  Disgusting.  But he got it done.

He got dressed, pocketed the plug, and reluctantly inspected both mottled dicks for blood.  Safe.  Thank _fuck_.

Sam was coming down the stairs with another mutant over his shoulder when Dean came back into the house with the fancy stretcher they’d snagged from the stairwell of the hospital, gas mask firmly in place and walking normally.

“You got one in the cellar?”

“Two of the fuckers.”

“Well hopefully this is all of them.  I’m not sure the container we buried will fit many more.”

When Dean brought his first one out to the flatbed trailer, Sam asked why it was naked.

“Fuck if I know.  Can’t be comfortable wearing pants when your sac practically reaches your knees, though.”

An hour later, Dean was all too happy to toss the match to light them up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfun fact: real life bloodborne pathogens can transmit through semen and vaginal fluid so be safe, friends!
> 
> Feedback is welcome (and makes my day <3) (cross-posted to [tumblr](https://samdeanddlyumptious.tumblr.com/post/173501347145/hhdwmutants))


	5. Amphiptere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An ugly-ass dragon thing.
> 
> Additional tags: mind control, mild constriction, fear of evisceration/vore (nothing graphic)

Dean cussed when something sprayed across his face before his boots even hit the clay floor. A hissing came from far too close and he froze in the middle of spitting and wiping his eyes. He’d fucking known he and Sam shouldn’t have split up, but they only had so much time to search the abandoned pueblo housing before night fell and all bets were off. He took a deep breath to yell for Sam in case he’d just dropped from the ceiling onto their monster. But it could also be a normal desert snake, so he slowly lowered his forearm and squinted past the blur of his vision.

Nope. Monster. _Fuck_.

The shout he’d geared up for turned into a sigh when his gaze caught on bright yellow eyes. His vision stuttered and his gun dropped out of his hand, sending up a cloud of sand at his feet. He took a few staggering, reluctant steps further into the room and out of the protective sunlight.

It was bigger than they had been estimating. It was a little thicker than Sam’s sasquatch arms would be able to meet around, three times longer than Dean was tall, and its wings would probably be able to encompass an entire motel room. If the sheer size wasn’t enough, it was ugly as fuck. There seemed to be scales on its underbelly like a snake but the rest was baby-puke beige leathery skin stretched over jutting plates, like the close-ups of damaged hair on shampoo commercials. Its head looked like something from Jurassic Park: long and rectangular, overexaggerated brow ridges, and a shit-ton of dagger teeth bared. A dinosaur face, spiky snake body, and bat wings. They’d been close, mostly underestimating the size. And if they were close, then Dean’s sight was starting to clear up from venom. Which meant it had temporary control over him—because wasn’t that just his fucking luck.

Two forked tongues tasted the air as it sidled closer to him. If he survived this, they were going straight to a fucking hardware store and picking up goggles and safety masks. If gasmasks didn’t affect peripheral vision and he’d worn one, it’d have been easy as pie to get the mirror out of his pocket and flash sunlight into the thing’s eyes. But here he was, a sitting duck who was probably about to have his throat and entrails torn out like the other vics.

Dean glared when the tongues flickered against his cheek. He concentrated all his willpower on his right arm, which was within reach of the light coming in from the ceiling entrance. If he could just get his mirror. Hope fluttered in his chest for a moment when his hands lifted up to his hips, but they dipped past his jacket to his belt buckle. If he could have yelled in frustration he would have when his fingers started undoing his belt. What the fuck was it with monsters lately? Maybe he’d been cursed. This would be right up a witch’s fucked-up alley.

The dragon thing curled so most of the wide scales of its underbelly were showing and Dean eyed how close the tip of its tail was to the square of light coming in from the ceiling entrance. The lore was about 50/50 on whether sunlight on any part of its body weakened it or just the eyes. Sam seemed convinced light in its eyes would actually kill it. None of those theories were helpful when he was being mind controlled into dropping trou, though.

He kicked his jeans and underwear off past his boots and approached the monster, mentally screaming at his body to fucking resist, goddamn it, the whole time. The belly scales were smooth and cool to the touch when he straddled it. They bulged slightly when he stroked them, and he mentally flinched when a couple dicks popped out. They were about the same size and shape as Dean’s, but a translucent milky white and studded with dull spikes.

Dean hoped it could hear him mentally cussing it out as it made him position himself and grab one of the dicks to sit on, the spikes firm against his palm. He hoped it could hear his triumphant ‘fuck you’ when the tip hit the bottom of the butt plug and couldn’t go further. That triumph was cut short by his hand sliding down without his say-so to tug the toy out. He wanted to scream when the plug hit the sandy floor and he realigned himself.

The dick was uncomfortable as fuck going in. His knees went weak when the spikes ran over his prostate, and gravity pulled him down too fast, too full for a moment before he was forced back up and into a rhythm. He gritted his teeth in a snarl when it made him cup its free dick against his own and start pumping despite his sac being caught painfully in the middle. His thighs and abs burned hot as the fucking desert sun as he rode hard with shaky knees without being able to brace his weight. Frustrated tears streaked down his cheeks when he started chubbing up against the monster’s other dick, which just made him even more sensitive to the little spikes against the underside of his shaft.

It was almost a relief when the dinosaur-dragon moved to support more of his weight, except that it did so by coiling around him like a boa constrictor, like it was getting ready to crush him. It didn’t let his hips miss a beat when it made him lean back into its body, and he just hoped to god it wasn’t about to eat him in the middle of fucking him. His internal monologue reduced down to the tempo of his movements please please please please please—

His breath hitched in his chest like a sob when its head lowered to hover just over his shoulder, tongues flicking out to smell him. He didn’t know how it could smell anything past the carrion stench of itself. His breath hitched again and he screwed his eyes closed when bared fangs brushed against his ear, and he flinched away.

He’d flinched. He’d moved! Only an inch, but it meant either the venom was wearing off or its concentration was slipping. His chest tightened as the coils did, and he tried to move his hand to his pocket. He got his fingers in but couldn’t get them to bend enough to grasp the mirror. He groaned when the monster made him pick up the pace until the stimulation from the spikes against his prostate and cock blurred and burned, almost unbearable.

The coils tightened once more, making his ribs ache, before off-white jizz burst out of its cocks, covering his own dick and flooding through the spaces between the spikes onto the insides of his thighs. A moment later, nauseating discomfort raked through him when the studded cock yanked out of his too-tender hole as he was flung away. The dragon uncoiled and writhed in what he could only assume was orgasm, and a wing knocked him over as soon as he was on his feet again. He ended up stiltedly crawling with his hard, monster-jizzed-on dick dragging in sand for the few feet to the square of sunlight.

The sunlight didn’t do anything when he got it reflected on the belly scales. As soon as he got it in the eyes, though, they caught fire and the inferno spread over the whole body in a flash fire. It shrieked like a train whistle from Hell as the flames—and it—died, and Dean’s hands shook with panic as he pocketed the plug and jerked his underwear and jeans on over his cum-wet legs.

Sam’s unruly mop cast a shadow through the opening just before Dean could get his fly and belt done up.

“You okay? Did you get it?”

“Affirmative on both counts.”

Dean’s hands were like the wind in the few seconds he had before Sam’s feet hit the ground. He ended up having plenty time to get better arranged, though, since Sam completely ignored him in favor of getting geek juices all over the smoldering monster, rambling about evolution and lore. Dean mostly tuned him out, way too distracted by his sore ass and trying to will away his disgusting erection, until—

“Hey, was its, y’know, dicks out before you got it?”

Wow, Dean’s mirror was suddenly really dirty and needed to be thoroughly wiped down immediately. “Wasn’t exactly checking out the goods, man. Too busy kicking ass.”

“Dude, what if you ganked this thing while it was in the middle of something? Otherwise, talk about a weird reaction to being set on fire.”

“Like I give a shit. You were right, by the way: the eyes do it.”

Sam just nodded distractedly.

“Now can we please get out of the desert already?” Dean scowled as he felt a glob of dragon jizz slide out of him into already-damp cotton. “I’ve got swamp ass, it’s so fuckin’ hot. I’ll take the West’s unending rain any day of the week over this shit.”

“We’re _in_ the West,” Sam said without even looking away from the charred wing he was holding up.

“Bullshit. This is the South.”

“Nope. According to the Census Bureau, Arizona is definitely in the West.”

“The Census—? Southwest,” Dean compromised.

“Sure.”

“Well then let’s head to the fuckin’ _North_ west! North Dakota or something.”

Sam turned towards him, his eyebrows up high in one of his sassy little brother faces. Dean bristled.

“Seriously? North Dakota is _Mid_ west. Make up your mind. Or at least learn some basic geography.”

Dean yelled wordlessly, stomped over to the precarious ancient ladder, and muttered to himself about pulling all the weight and getting nothing but a sore ass for his troubles the whole wary climb up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, America's geography is some confusing bullshit imo
> 
> I love to hear from y'all :3 (concrit welcome)
> 
> cross-posted to [tumblr](https://samdeanddlyumptious.tumblr.com/post/174928002830/hhdwamphiptere) and [spnkink_meme](https://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/131100.html?thread=44725276#t44725276)


	6. The Thing & Vagina Dentata

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changing things up a little: telling you when it happens, no monsters die, and one of them _talks_ (and has a vagina)
> 
> Additional tags: ANGST, double penetration, sounding, PIV, body horror, nongraphic vomiting, mentions of canon major character deaths

Beige-pink tentacles flicked up over the edge of the hole in the floor and Dean tried to scramble back. One of them pulled the detonator down into the hole, and the other two wrapped around Dean’s ankles and reeled him in, undeterred by his desperate kicking and pushing against the snow-blanketed wood floor for traction. The thing that rose up through the hole as he struggled was a vaguely humanoid pillar of warped, twisted flesh. There was one human arm, two talon-tipped arms, and it was topped by a head that was mostly human except that where the left eye and side of the head should have been there was a giant, drooling muzzle full of teeth instead. Another tentacle slid out of it, this one with claws at the end like the arms, and Dean shouted and struggled as it started tearing at his clothes. He was so scared that he didn’t even feel the snow under his newly bare ass.

Dean recoiled and struggled even harder when the flesh column ripped apart to reveal a furless canine chestburster that looked like a half-melted cartoon character popsicle. The blood-slick dog head snarled at him as the tentacles forced his legs apart and slid across his taint. He shouted and writhed as best he could, but two tentacles shoved into him all the same. They pistoned deeper and deeper into him, and he searched frantically for the flare he’d dropped earlier.

Another tentacle curled around his dick just above his balls, snaked its way up, and his scream was lost under the thing’s shrieking as it forced its way into his dick. He tried to wrench the tentacles out of him but they just picked up speed and he fell back with a gasp. His vision was nothing but the creature’s flickering, monstrous shadow cast on the ceiling as it fucked and battered into places inside him where nothing had any right to be. Tears froze to his temples but he couldn’t feel the cold. Actually, his dick felt _warm_ , what—

Dean jerked awake with a gasp that was cut off by a hand clamping onto his mouth and another tightening around his throat. His breathing turned even more panicked when his hand darted under the pillows of his bed to find his knife missing. Shit shit shit.

He shot his hands forward blindly to return the favor and strangle whoever the fuck was on him—and stopped short when several sharp somethings closed softly around his weirdly warm dick. Whoever was on him made soft shushing noises a couple inches from his face and he froze. His eyes finally adjusted to the dim street light making it past the motel’s shitty blackout curtain. Jesus _Christ_.

“Don’t want to wake up little brother, do we?” Dean glanced over at the other bed and sure enough Sam was stretched out asleep, none the wiser. “If you’re a good boy,” the cloying, moist voice continued, “he won’t even know I was here.”

Dean glared up, but held still. Hellhounds were going to be after his ass in a month regardless, but he’d like to make it Downstairs intact. And there was no way he would risk Sam bleeding out in a skeevy motel room from massive blood loss from a chomped-off dick. No one deserved that, definitely not his brother. It was pure instinct that jerked his face away when the hand covering his mouth moved to caress his cheek, and the succubus grinned. Or at least he assumed. Hard to tell with a face like that.

It turned out that succubi were real-life versions of a string of pop-up porn ads, like the universe had gotten stuck on one godawful idea and replicated it over and over. Honestly, the teeth in her snatch were probably the least gross thing about her. She was slick in a way that was less _wet pussy_ than it was _old lunch meat_ and the shine was all over, like people were in movies when they’d been skinned. No ears, no hair. Glinting eyes were set far back in her skull, dwarfed by the cunt of her face. If she had nostrils, they had to be on either side of the clit in place of her nose. The whole lower half of her face was row after row of ruffled labia minora fanning out on either side of her mouth, which looked like a goddamn lamprey or changeling. He didn’t even know how the fuck she spoke. Did she even have a tongue?

The teeth against his dick retreated to leave nothing but soft muscle, and he shuddered in disgust at the slippery weight of her rocking against him.

“You’re so pretty,” she whispered as she stroked him some more, venturing up into his hair.

Dean tried not to react. She’d killed someone a couple nights ago, so she wouldn’t be taking enough energy to kill him. Without his knife and no gun stashed because he was a fucking idiot, he just had to wait her out and give her no reason to not leave him intact. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. He’d been fucked by worse, after all.

“You’ll make me jealous, thinking about those other monsters who got to you before me.”

Dean’s eyes snapped to her, cold dread washing through him.

“How—” He snarled when she put more pressure behind her hand on his throat to cut him off.

“That’s what I am, honey,” she cooed. Soft, wet noises filled the room as she started riding hard, slip sliding against his hips and stomach, and Dean clenched his jaw and tried to ignore what her natural born skill was doing to him. Damp flaps of her face brushed his cheek when she leaned even closer to whisper in his ear. “I am sex and monsters and nightmares. And, baby, you are a _feast_. I could smell you three cities over, couldn’t wait to get my hands on you.”

“Had to wait your turn, and extra-ugly bitches have to go to the back of the line,” he grit out past the bruising grip around his throat.

“Worth it. But you’re with me now, not any of them, so you better be thinking of me,” she punctuated the command with a move that made Dean’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He tried to get a grip on her slimy waist to push her off before he remembered his brother only a few feet away. Waking Sam up could end with them being killed or mutilated.

The succubus sat back and looked like she was grinning again. “Hey, wanna see a trick?”

“Rather not.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport.”

She grabbed one of his hands and brought it towards her, to her breast—

“Jesus fucking Christ what the fuck—”

Her grip on his wrist tightened when he tried to jerk away and teeth pressed harder against his dick than before, scraping lightly, and he let out a pathetic whimper. The other hand grabbed his jaw and forced his head to face forward when he tried to turn away.

“I said, ‘wanna _see_ a trick’. The visual is half the fun.”

Dean’s stomach tightened and his throat closed up even though he wasn’t being choked anymore. There were lamprey pits gaping in the middle of each heavy breast, she had goddamn teeth where her nipples were supposed to be and Dean couldn’t—he’d seen fucked up shit on the job before, but this—

He tried not to hyperventilate, tried to stem his horror and revulsion as she inserted one of his fingers _into her tit_ and sharp pressure matching that on his dick closed in on it, holding it in place. He was going to throw up. He was going to choke on it and die before his contract was even up and he didn’t know if that was better than dying from having his dick bit off although Sam could probably come up with a dozen reasons if he choked, not so much for—

“Stay with me, sweetie. Mama’s almost done, more’s the shame.”

The teeth in her cunt eased up as her tempo increased again, but the teeth in her tit clamped down harder to compensate for the bouncing. Any thoughts of last-night-on-Earth sex were out the window. All those teeth, all the slimy glimmering, the sticky feel of her skin, and that face were going to be seared into his brain for a long time.

She leaned forward, taking his finger for the ride, until the teeth from her other breast grazed across his chest. Bile flooded the back of his throat just as she yanked on his hair and hissed, “Come on, darlin’. Fill me up with that sweet, tainted cum.”

God help him, his body did as he was told.

Tears were blurring her silhouette when she finally settled from her throes with a sigh.

“ _Very_ good boy,” she praised. “But save those tears for those who’ll come after me.”

Dean managed a bitter laugh. “Guess you can’t see everything. I’ll be dead before another one of you fucking freaks gets a hand on me.”

“Hate to burst your bubble, sugar, but it’s going to get so. Much. Worse.” She released his finger, slid off his dick with a sickening noise, and nuzzled her flaps against his cheek. “I hope our paths meet again, Dean Winchester. It’s been delicious.” And then her mouth was on his and he barely felt the teeth, barely registered the foul taste of the slime, before she disappeared.

Sam could damn well think whatever he wanted about the vomit splattered on the motel carpet. Dean barely had the energy to stifle the sound of his hitching sobs into his pillow, no way would he have reached the bathroom in time.

He’d almost made it the whole year without getting fucked by some monster so of course now that the finish line was firmly in sight something had to come and ruin the record. He was so fucking tired and fed up with all of it and he was about to end up smack in the middle of it _for eternity_ if he and Sam didn’t do some quick fucking thinking and how the fuck was Dean supposed to keep it together, especially if more monster were going to come for him for some last hurrah? What the ever-loving fuck had he done to deserve this?

Hot tears squeezed out of him. He’d done everything to deserve this, to deserve dying, to deserve forever in Hell: he’d failed at the only things he was supposed to be good for, repeatedly. His dad dead on a hospital floor, his brother rotting on a bare mattress, countless civilians he hadn’t been fast or smart enough to save. He deserved everything that was happening to him and more besides.

A month later, when the hellhounds came, Dean was only thankful they didn’t play with him before ripping him apart. Sam didn’t need to see that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're confused about the hellhounds: this is set a month before his contract with Lilith comes due, hellhounds kill him right in front of Sam, and he goes to Hell (the end of season 3)
> 
> I'm a little nervous about change in tone and talking monster! I'm thinking it'll be 3-4 more chapters just fyi <3
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day!
> 
> (cross-posted to [tumblr](https://samdeanddlyumptious.tumblr.com/post/176170733695/hhdwthethingvaginadentata))


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